


Achilles [Come Down]

by Saunne



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort/Angst, Gen, I make it less funny than in the manga, Songfic, Suicide Attempt, Takeshi is his angsty depressed self, Teenage Drama, Tsuna fucked up and he try to fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29049744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saunne/pseuds/Saunne
Summary: [AchillesAchillesAchilles come down, won't youGet up offGet up off the roof ?]-Takeshi's mask cracks at the seams. It doesn't take much for him to fall for good, a broken arm from excessive practice as a passable alibi for him to throw everything away. For a short while, he is free. The wind in hishair, the ugliness of his truth for the world to see, the void, a step away, calling him...And then, rather than the void, there is an outstretched hand and a frank gaze.-[How the most dangerous thing is to loveHow you will heal and you'll rise above]
Relationships: Implied Future Sawada Tsunayoshi / Yamamoto Takeshi, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Yamamoto Takeshi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Achilles [Come Down]

**Author's Note:**

> To all the readers of If The Sky Is Empty waiting for the next update, I'm sorry but my muse kicked me after I stumbled upon Achilles Comes Down from Gang of Youths in my Youtube recommendations and I've been typing this OS since 6pm without stopping (it's actually 11pm).
> 
> I'm fucking hungry actually.
> 
> So there you have it, a little songfic on a not necessarily very happy theme which nevertheless stuck well with Yamamoto Takeshi. Hope you like it and have the patience to wait for ITSIE because I went all over the place a little bit and what was supposed to be one chapter turned into two chapters so I'm having a hard time order my thoughts and write as I wish but I will succeed.

> Achilles
> 
> Achilles
> 
> Achilles come down, won't you
> 
> Get up off
> 
> Get up off the roof ?
> 
> You're scaring us
> 
> And all of us
> 
> Some of us love you
> 
> Achilles, it's not much but there's proof

* * *

Everything is so calm up there.  
  


He wants to smile, like he does all the time. That's what he's known for after all, that's what he's good for. Yamamoto Takeshi, the somewhat stupid athlete always smiling. He wants to smile, because if he smiles, he can pretend that everything is fine, that nothing is wrong.  
  


_But everything is wrong, nothing is right, everything hurts-  
  
_

He wants to smile, bright and sunny, carefree teenager as always. He wants to smile but he can't, not when his heart looks like a bleeding black hole, not when he can feel his mask, carefully positioned, start to crack at the seams.  
  


_Everything is a game, everything is a game. If life is a theater, he is the main actor, always smiling, always happy, surrounded by the crowd, acclaimed by the extras.  
  
_

He just has to play his role, put on his mask and keep it on ... But when to take it off, when should he, when can he drop it ? The mask starts to wear out, it doesn't stick as well anymore. It starts to slip, he has to straighten it. The seams are worn, the stitches are skipping, he can feel it coming off.  
  


_But he can't let it slide, he can't let nobody see.  
  
_

He can hear the wind, he can hear the crowd, but nothing matters now, nothing matters anymore. Everything is muted, everything is muffled. He can hear his heart beating in his chest, his blood flowing in his ears and the wind, the wind that rips the mask off, leaves him naked and exposed, ugly truth for the world to see.  
  


He feels free.  
  


He feels good.  
  


Everything is calm, up here.

* * *

> You crazy assed cosmonaut
> 
> Remember your virtue
> 
> Redemption lies plainly in truth
> 
> Just humour us
> 
> Achilles
> 
> Achilles come down
> 
> Won't you get up off
> 
> Get up off the roof
> 
> Achilles
> 
> Achilles
> 
> Achilles come down, won't you
> 
> Get up off
> 
> Get up off the roof ?

* * *

He still tries to smile, even though the mask is gone.  
  


He keeps trying, even though he gave up. The play is soon over, the denouement approaches. He's so tired of this play, so tired of this role. But he hung on, he held on for so long! He tried, even if he wanted to give up.  
  


_Has he tried enough ? Was it enough ?  
  
_

He’s so tired, tired of this mask, tired of this play, tired of this endless game. The seams cracked but he played well, didn't he, Mom ? He played well, as she asked. He hid the sharp edges under soft smiles, he concealed the all-consuming emptiness under bursting laughter, he covered the endless hunger under a brilliant personality, just as she asked for.  
  


She was like him, Mom, all velvet and softness, to hide the darkness and the sharp instincts. But now the mask is off, because he wasn't good enough. Now the sharp edges - _too sharp, too keen, too sheen, he needs to cover them up_ \- are gleaming in the morning sun and he can no longer hide the void that inhabits him.  
  


He tries to smile, but it's too intense, completely false.  
  


Behind him, the crowd is agitated, the extras cry out. They call him, they stir, they beg. He no longer follows the script, he unbalances all these tidy little world, made of small decorated boxes, pretty labels and well-ordered roles. And they don't like it, oh no, they hate it, these little characters well in their place in their well-ordered life.  
  


So he smiles at them, naked and ugly, sharp and nasty. He threw up a few false excuses, a few words of appeasement. Everything is false here anyway, them like him, so what does it matter ? So he smiles, in all his falsehood, as he falters. The wind ruffles his hair and the void calls him, the fall tempts him.  
  


And he looks at them, all those faces covered in masks, who spit out lies after falsehoods, who care about nothing more than appearance, who live in their little play where everything is in its place and he wants to laugh as much as he wants to cry.  
  


And he looks at her, this mass, this faceless crowd, these poor little extras as he laughs, as he cries. And they don't make any movement, they just scream, willing spectators of the upcoming denouement.  
  


Then there's someone moving, someone cutting through the crowd, struggling their way through. They don't scream, not until they're in the front row, not before they're in sight, with their wild eyes and tortured faces, without masks, without pretenses.  
  


_Oh, it's him.  
  
_

_He came, finally.  
  
_

_The denouement...  
  
_

And Takeshi smiles at him, at this No-Good, at this Useless, at this Dame.  
  


He smiles…  
  


And the other _see_ him.  
  


_… Oh._

* * *

> The self is not so weightless
> 
> Nor whole and unbroken
> 
> Remember the pact of our youth
> 
> Where you go
> 
> I'm going
> 
> So jump and I'm jumping
> 
> Since there is no me without you
> 
> Soldier on
> 
> Achilles
> 
> Achilles come down
> 
> Won't you get up off
> 
> Get up off the roof ?

* * *

Isn't it hilarious, isn't it ironic ? Isn't that the funniest thing that the only one to see behind the mask, the only one to understand is the one everyone despises, the one who tries to play his role but never managed to fit his mask properly ? Isn't it sad that the only one who pays attention, the only one who watches is the one that no one wants to see, that no one wants to look at ?  
  


Dame-Tsuna doesn't scream, although it looks like he was going to. Dame-Tsuna does not beg, although he seems to want to. He barely comes close, only a few steps forward, as the others laugh, while the others mock.   
  


He is uncertain, his steps cautious and his body tense. He doesn't want to be there, that's clear. He doesn't want to be in the front row, he doesn't want to see this. He would have preferred to hide, to stay away from all the hustle and bustle, away from cruel laughter and sour smiles.  
  


_After all, what could Dame-Tsuna, Useless-Tsuna do ? What, does he really think he can succeed where Takeshi's friends have failed ?  
  
_

But Dame-Tsuna doesn't answer, nor does he move back. He swallows, squirms. He wants to run away and hide, but he stays and stands there, silent. Then, after a long breath, as the crowd mock, as laughter erupts, with only enemies on his back and no allies in sight, he closes his eyes and bows.  
  


He bows, deeply.  
  


And, after straightening up, he speaks. His voice is soft and Takeshi has to make an effort to catch everything he says, between the wind blowing in his ears and the whispers of the crowd.  
  


And his eyes are frank and sharp, completely honest, as he apologizes.  
  


“I'm sorry,” he says.  
  


“I gave you a bad advice,” he says.  
  


He hesitates slightly, thinks about what to say for a moment. It is clear that he does not really know what to say, that he has not prepared anything.  
  


Behind him, the extras are silent, attentive.  
  


He might say he doesn't know how to give advice because it's the truth. He is Dame-Tsuna after all, Useless-Tsuna, last in everything and good in nothing. No one in his right mind would ask him anything and yet, Takeshi did. But Dame-Tsuna doesn't say it, no, although it can be read all over his face.  
  


No, Dame-Tsuna looks Takeshi in the eye, with almost frightening intensity as he apologizes for lying to Takeshi.   
  


“I told you what I thought you wanted to hear, not what you needed to hear. I was telling myself that, anyway, even if I told you what you needed to hear and not what that you wanted to hear, would you even take me seriously ? So I lied and my lie, even though it started from what I thought was good attention, led to the current situation. And for that, for the part I played in this, I apologize, Yamamoto-san.”  
  


And Takeshi ... Takeshi can feel himself smiling. Not sharp, not twisted, not broken.  
  


He can feel himself smiling, softly, weakly even as he dares to ask, in a whisper : “And if I asked you now ? What would you tell me ?”  
  


_And Dame-Tsuna...  
  
_

_And Sawada...  
  
_

_And Tsunayoshi...  
  
_

_And Tsuna...  
  
_

And Tsuna _smiles_.

* * *

> Loathe the way they light candles in Rome
> 
> But love the sweet air of the votives
> 
> Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone
> 
> Engage with the pain as a motive
> 
> Today of all days
> 
> See
> 
> How the most dangerous thing is to love
> 
> How you will heal and you'll rise above

* * *

And Tsuna approaches him, as the crowd remains silent. His smile is weak and he is shaking, but his eyes are purposeful as he walks, cautiously. His hand quivers when he holds it out to Takeshi, the intention clear behind despite the lack of additional words.  
  


Takeshi hesitates.  
  


The mask fell off and even though he made another one, everyone saw the darkness hidden below. Even if Takeshi does a mask again, it will be stuffy, too tight to be put back in place correctly. It will cut his jaw, tear his lips, mark his cheeks. He will be in pain trying to fit into the mold again, when he has finally torn off all the chains holding him back.  
  


He is afraid of being once again a prisoner of his own skin, a slave to his own role.  
  


But Tsuna looks at him unperturbed, his hand still outstretched and Takeshi thinks for a moment that he sees his eyes glow in a warm, hearty, reassuring amber color.  
  


He grabs the outstretched hand.  
  


He could pull. Rock back, embrace the void and drag Tsuna with him, crush them both at the foot of the building. Two rebellious little toys who didn't want to follow the script, reunited together. It would be easy, when Tsuna is as thin as a twig and probably as light as one.  
  


Just a little yank and they would fall.  
  


Tsuna stares at him, a soft smile on his lips as if he knows what Takeshi is thinking and yet he doesn't remove his hand.  
  


Takeshi stepped through the fence, landing safely on the roof. Behind him, the rickety barrier sway for a moment in a draft, before collapsing and falling in the other direction. He doesn't hear the crashing sound of his landing, three floors down, as Tsuna is already dragging him through the crowd of extras, who automatically move away as they pass, without a word.  
  


Agape.  
  


Takeshi smiles and Tsuna smiles back at him.

* * *

> Achilles
> 
> Achilles
> 
> Achilles
> 
> Jump now
> 
> You are absent of cause
> 
> Or excuse
> 
> So self-indulgent
> 
> And self-referential
> 
> No audience could ever want you
> 
> You crave the applause
> 
> Yet hate the attention
> 
> Then miss it, your act is a ruse
> 
> It is empty, Achilles
> 
> So end it all now
> 
> It's a pointless resistance
> 
> For you

* * *

The school called his father.  
  


He misses a week of class, is taken to a psychologist and spends several very quiet meals with his only family. It takes him two days to fully realize what he was going to do. In the safety of their small family home, Takeshi breaks down in tears for the first time since his mother’s death.  
  


His father is with him all the time, with Takesushi staying closed until Takeshi is allowed to return to college. Tsuna takes the time to come every afternoon after class, bringing half-full class notes in a muddled handwriting, with cookies his mother baked. He doesn't comment on Takeshi's red eyes, the weakness of his smile, or how the taller boy tends to invade his personal space.  
  


_Takeshi isn't sure if he actually imagines Tsuna snuggling up more comfortably against him when Takeshi puts an arm around his shoulders or how his smaller friend's body seems to relax noticeably when their legs touch when they are seated.  
  
_

He also doesn't comment on the absence of his so-called friends, or the fact that none of his baseball teammates came to see him.  
  


No, Tsuna is just coming to keep him company, pockets full of homemade cookies, head full of funny anecdotes about his life at home now that his mother has forced Gokudera Hayato, the transfer from Italy, to agree to stay in the guest room, or the antics of the new guest, a hyperactive 5-year-old named Lambo.  
  


It takes several days, the day before he returns to college, before Takeshi dares to talk to Tsuna about how he was feeling. The play. The mask. The role. The expectations.  
  


Tsuna listens, doesn't interrupt but his eyes are sharp and Takeshi knows he _understands_.  
  


_His heart feels warmer and he wonders if it's just his imagination or if it has something to do with Tsuna's changing eyes, the warm amber-orange he sees blinking every now and then instead of the usual chocolate brown._

* * *

> Achilles
> 
> Achilles
> 
> Just put down the bottle
> 
> Don't listen to what you've consumed
> 
> It's chaos, confusion
> 
> And wholly unworthy
> 
> Of feeding and it's wholly untrue
> 
> You may feel no purpose
> 
> Nor a point for existing
> 
> It's all just conjecture and gloom

* * *

Takeshi loved baseball.  
  


He was good, terribly good, ace of his team. His whole mask was built on his playing skills, the pursuit of excellence having long replaced the love of the sport that was the only bond he had left with his mother.  
  


His broken arm then looked like the end of the world.  
  


Now, however, his heart sinks at the thought of returning on the field. He loves baseball, he will always love baseball but…  
  


This is no longer what is needed. What _he_ needs.  
  


_He doesn't want to think about the fact that no member of the team has ever come to see how he is doing. Better ignore that dull throbbing pain and focus on Tsuna. Tsuna is there and that's all that matters.  
  
_

The professors say nothing when he hands in the baseball club resignation form, but their lips are pursed and their eyes pensive. He doesn't think about it, doesn't want to think about it. He stays with Tsuna, bickers with Gokudera, is dragged into their "mafia game" by this strange baby dressed in a costume and a fedora.  
  


_But this is not a game, it is not a game, everything is real and the instinct, the hunger long hidden behind the mask howls with joy and delight, but Tsuna is tense, Tsuna is afraid so Takeshi tries to relax the atmosphere, smiles and laughs to soothe him but he knows the other doesn't believe him, not when Tsuna can read him like an open book.  
  
_

Whatever.  
  


He can pretend a bit as long as Tsuna is around. And Gokudera is fun to tease, as is the baby-cow Lambo.  
  


_If that means he'll ever have to get his hands dirty to hold onto what he has now, well, something about him purrs with excitement at the thought._

* * *

> And there may not be meaning
> 
> So find one and seize it
> 
> Do not waste your self on this roof
> 
> Hear those bells ring deep in the soul
> 
> Chiming away for a moment
> 
> Feel your breath course frankly below
> 
> See life as a worthy opponent
> 
> Today of all days
> 
> See
> 
> How the most dangerous thing is to love
> 
> How you will heal and you'll rise above
> 
> Crowned by an overture bold and beyond
> 
> Ah, it's more courageous to overcome

* * *

Takeshi breathes and feels more alive than ever before.  
  


The group around Tsuna grows, a small crowd as crazy as they are eclectic, filled with social cases, outcasts and unbalanced, actors without masks and toys who have broken the mold rather than let themselves be broken.  
  


It's loud, full of life and activity, chaotic as possible and Takeshi _loves it_.  
  


The sword in his hand feels like an extension of himself, like a limb he didn't know he was missing but which he desperately needed. Moving is easy, natural, instinctive. "Natural born hitman," Reborn had said after watching him practice and Takeshi wonders if he got that from his mother, all made of velvet to hide the steel underneath.  
  


They go from adventure to adventure, each more incredible than the next. Defeat professional assassins in fights for the Vongola rings, travel 10 years into the future to save the world - _no less !_ \- from a megalomaniac psychopath, fight some teenagers of their own age because of the machinations of a ghost over 400 years old - _he thought he had seen it all in terms of unbelievable things, he was wrong apparently -_ , help Reborn the Baby-Who-Is-Not-A-Baby to shake off a curse by fighting for him in a battle royale, destroy said curse…  
  


Takeshi feels _alive_.

* * *

> You want the acclaim
> 
> The mother of mothers (it's not worth it Achilles)
> 
> More poignant than fame
> 
> Or the taste of another (don't listen Achilles)
> 
> But be real and just jump
> 
> You dense motherfucker (you're worth more, Achilles)
> 
> You will not be more
> 
> Than a rat in the gutter (so much more than a rat)
> 
> You want my opinion (no one asked your opinion)
> 
> My opinion you've got
> 
> You asked for my counsel (no one asked for your thoughts)
> 
> I gave you my thoughts

* * *

He is still afraid, sometimes, that it has all been a very vivid dream and that he will end up waking up in his room, a mask too small and too tight suffocating him to death in the banality of a normal life.  
  


Sometimes he is afraid that this is all just a hallucination, that he has made it all up and that one day he will turn around to be alone again.  
  


He has days like this, or getting out of bed is hard, or his smiles are crooked and his eyes are too sharp, or his instinct is screaming and he can only pretend to be fine, because nothing is right, everything is wrong, everything is false, false, _false...  
  
_

But Tsuna is there, always, to hold his hand and relax in his embrace, to smile at him with that soft smile that makes him warm inside...  
  


Tsuna is always there, with his knowing eyes, gazing at Takeshi as if Takeshi can _never_ hide anything from him, as if Takeshi isn't trying to put a mask back on sometimes, to cover up the whirlwind that rages within his mind, the violent downpours that tear his thoughts…  
  


Tsuna is always there, as the sky will always be there and Takeshi ...  
  


_And Takeshi can smile._

* * *

> Be done with this now
> 
> And jump off the roof
> 
> Can you hear me Achilles ?
> 
> I'm talking to you
> 
> I'm talking to you
> 
> I'm talking to you
> 
> I'm talking to you
> 
> Achilles come down
> 
> Achilles come down
> 
> Throw yourself into the unknown
> 
> With pace and a fury defiant
> 
> Clothe yourself in beauty untold
> 
> And see life as a means to a triumph
> 
> Today of all days
> 
> See
> 
> How the most dangerous thing is to love
> 
> How you will heal and you'll rise above
> 
> Crowned by an overture bold and beyond
> 
> Ah, it's more courageous to overcome


End file.
